


Queen C of the Damned

by pristineungift



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Romance, The Initiative, Vamp!Cordy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-20
Updated: 2013-03-14
Packaged: 2017-11-26 04:08:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/646384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pristineungift/pseuds/pristineungift
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if it was Cordelia, not Harmony, who was vamped at graduation? What happens when a newly vamped Cordy gets with Spike.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. It Was a Thing

As a lot of things do, it all started at a club in L.A.

Spike had dragged his arse out of South America after Dru left him _again_ , and he had some vague plan in his alcohol pickled mind about torturing and killing old Angelus to prove once and for all that he was twice the vamp Dru’s sodding Daddy was. Word was that the Magnificent Poof had opened up some kind of kitten rescuing service in the City of Lost Angels, so here was Spike, drunk off his nut and trying to find a lost Angel of his own.

He was going to get a plan together and conduct a proper hunt for his soulful excuse for a grandsire any night now, really. He was just taking his time about things. Taking in the sights of the city. Relaxing a bit. He’d driven nonstop from Brazil, after all. He’d earned a bit of a rest.

Spike snorted into his drink. He’d never been one for denying the truth, not to himself at least. He was sitting here in this bar, three sheets to the wind, because he couldn’t stand to be sober yet without feeling like he’d taken a holy water coated stake to the gut, and he knew he couldn’t beat Angel in his current state. The fight would be close even when he was stone cold sober.

Hell, maybe he’d just go after Peaches anyway and let himself be staked. Suicide by poofter.

The idea of such a grand gesture, a statement of what his unlife was like without his Dark Plum appealed to him even as he was repulsed by his own… patheticness. Pathetocity?

Bloody hell, he was drunk.

He decided he needed to get laid.

Even through everything, he’d stayed true to Dru. He’d not strayed once, not when she was lost in her visions and forgot about him, not when she was messing about with Angelus, not when she’d left him.

He was loyal.

He was hers.

Well, it was time that stopped. He’d show her. She’d realize that he wasn’t going to wait around for her this time.

And he’d show himself. He could live without Dru. It was time he got some of his own back. Time he had someone who was just as devoted to him as Dru was to the memory of Angelus.

He knocked back the rest of his drink, warming to the idea. He’d make himself a childe. He’d never had one before, what with having Dru to take care of. He’d never needed one before.

In over a hundred years, he’d never been this lonely.

He got up, swaying only slightly, and made his way to the dance floor, surveying the crowd. He wasn’t going to be idiotic and turn the first bint who caught his eye, of course, but now that he had a plan he was impatient to get on with it. He eyed the women dancing speculatively, mentally cataloging what traits he wanted his childe to have.

Sane went at the top of the list. After a hundred years of interpreting messages from stars and dolls, sane would be a welcome change.

Young. Young enough that he’d be able to mold her, break her, make her devoted to him. But not too young. Able to carry on a conversation about more than boy bands and lip gloss.

He was debating whether he’d like to stick with brunettes or go for a blonde, just to have someone who looked as different from Dru as possible, when he saw her.

She was wearing a little red dress, the skirt flaring around her thighs as she moved sensuously to the beat. Her lips, painted a red to match the dress, were parted in a smirk, her dark eyes hooded in a come hither expression. She had long legs, an hourglass figure, and porcelain skin most women would kill for, contrasted beautifully with her long dark hair, artistically styled to look like she’d just been well shagged and was raring to go again.

Spike wanted her. And he decided he’d take her. Tonight. Never mind not turning the first bint to catch his eye, he wasn’t in the habit of denying himself things he wanted.

His leather coat swirling around him, Spike moved into the crowd, making his way toward the sultry beauty. He lost sight of her once, when she was swallowed up in a knot of men all vying for her attention, but found her again leading a muscle bound moron toward the parking lot. Spike frowned, but only briefly. He’d eat the sod before the human had a chance to touch Spike’s new princess.

It was sweet of her really, bringing him dinner.

Hugging to the shadows, Spike followed them, the perfume of the man’s arousal making Spike sneer to himself, clenching his teeth to hold back a growl. He waited until the daft bugger had Spike’s sweet childe-to-be backed up against a car, hands sliding over her dress, and then he let out a roar and struck.

He’d just sunk his fangs into the sweet spot when something smacked him in the back of the head hard enough to make his ears ring.

Spike looked up to see his beautiful princess glaring down at him, her eyes turning a fierce gold as a vampire’s game face came forward. “Hey buddy,” she spat at him, lisping a little around her fangs, “get your own!”

She brandished a red clutch purse at him, presumably what she’d used to box his ears. What did she keep in that thing, bricks?

Immensely put out to find that the woman he’d wanted for his childe had already been sired by someone else, and angry with himself for being so careless as to not notice, Spike threw the man at her feet. “Fine. There you go, you crazy bint.”

At the sound of his voice, the dark haired vampiress tilted her head, her red lips parting and a pink tongue darting out to wet them. “Spike?” she questioned.

Spike blinked, then smiled a charming smile. Maybe he couldn’t have her for his childe, but he might get a shag out of this yet. Just something to get Dru out of his system. “We know each other, luv?”

“Well, yeah,” the brunette answered. “I was human. You were in Sunnydale. You kidnapped my boyfriend. It was a whole thing.”


	2. Sloppy Seconds

After finding Cordelia (“But you can call me Queen C”) another meal (“Um, eww, no. You finish this one. I _so_ don’t do sloppy seconds”), Spike wound up right back where he started: sitting at a table near the bar with a bottle of J.D. Cordy ordered some fruity girl drink and just raised an eyebrow at the bartender when the git tried to charge her. The look clearly said that Queen C didn’t pay for drinks.

Then the beautiful young vampire settled into the booth across from Spike, and met his eyes squarely, a smirk playing around her lips as she sipped at her cup of bubbly crap.

Spike remembered her now. He’d seen her a few times when he’d tangled with the Slayer. Feisty thing, even as a human, and that had carried over after her turning. If he’d known what a lovely vampire she’d make, he’d have snatched her the last time he was in Sunnyhell.

He found himself growling at the lost opportunity.

Now that he knew what she was, Spike focused all his senses on her, noting her lack of heartbeat and the faint scent of old blood covered over by sex and perfume and the spicy sharp scent that was all her. There was a zing of mind-clouding seduction about her, and Spike realized with a start that she had the power of sexual thrall, and she was unconsciously wielding it on him and probably anyone else she wanted something from.

She must have been hell on the teenagers in that school of theirs. Few outside the vampiric lines knew that all powers a vampire might have beyond the usual came from the human’s potential, not the demon. Cordelia would have just been a bit more irresistible than other girls when she was mortal. Now, as a vampire, if she learned to use her thrall properly she’d be able to drive anything with a sex drive crazy with lust.

“So where’s your sire then, luv?” he asked to break the silence. It was easy to see that she was more than a minion – new, but a true childe. Spike guessed she’d been turned by another fledgling. If her sire was a master, she’d already be stronger than she was.

And a master would never let such a promising childe out of their sight.

Queen C rolled her eyes. “He was weak,” she snarled in contempt, her eyes flashing gold. “He turned me in the confusion after graduation – a giant snake thing attacked – and then he expected me to be his girlfriend or something just because he gave me the dark gift or whatever.” She rolled her eyes. “ _Please_. Guy was a loser when he was alive, and he was even more of a loser after he got dead. He had a real Interview with a Vampire complex, you know? Kept going on about how he was going to kill the Slayer and take over the Hellmouth and how I belonged to him and yadda yadda. Screw that. And his fashion sense!”

Cordelia held up her hands and made a face, as if she just didn’t have words for the horror.

Spike raised a brow. “So you left him, then?”

The look of disgust on Queen C’s face deepened. “Nah, Buffy dusted him about five minutes after he took her on. He was a loser, and I hated him, and one day I was going to dust him myself so I could be free, but he was my sire, you know?”

Spike did know.

“So after that I figured it’d be nice to be somewhere Slayer free with a decent shopping district. So I came to L.A. Thought about being an actress, but it’s surprisingly hard to get auditions after sunset. Now I just let old men pick me up at Hollywood parties, eat them, and take their wife’s stuff. All the trappings of the lifestyle with half the hassle.”

Spike laughed, raising his bottle of J.D. to her in a toast, his thoughts moving a mile a minute. She was a young fledge, just a few months old at most, and her sire was dust and hadn’t had much of a hold on her to begin with.

She could still be his. He just needed to figure out a way to get her to do the blood exchange. And he’d have to dominate her demon, prove that he was her master.

“But anyway,” his vicious little Cordy was saying, “I’m glad we ran into each other. I’ve been looking to hook up with a master vamp, and Angel has pretty much wiped out all the ones in L.A. And when I went to him, he tried to stake me, the jerk.”

Spike felt his triumph was nigh. Or something less poncy sounding. “And why do you want to hook up with a master vamp, pet?”

“Duh!” She waved one meticulously manicured hand at him. Her nails were as red as her dress, and filed into deadly points. “I’m a fledge with no sire, I don’t know how to fight, and I’m hotter than hell. I’ve got no plans of becoming anyone’s pet or dusting anytime soon. So I need someone to protect me and teach me vampire stuff.”

“And you think I’ll just take you in like some hurt puppy, out of the goodness of my heart?”

Cordy rolled her eyes again, a habit Spike was going to have to break her of. “No. I’m not a hurt puppy. I’m a _pussy_ cat,” she purred to him, voice husky. “And I can so make it worth your while.”

She put her hand on Spike’s arm, and he got a jolt of her thrall, lust crawling across his skin.

“I think I could be persuaded,” Spike said as neutrally as he could.

Queen C smiled beatifically. In time, Spike would learn that expression meant he’d just been thoroughly manipulated.


	3. Hail to Queen C

The plan had been for Spike to claim Cordy as his childe and then spend a few months molding her into the perfect princess who was utterly devoted to her new sire.

The problem was that Queen C was already royalty, and already perfect, ta very much. Somehow, and Spike wasn't and never would be sure how, he was the one who'd wound up in training. The little bint had him wrapped around her finger so tight that he  _knew_  he was pussy whipped and still couldn't seem to get away.

He eventually decided to blame it on her powers of thrall. There was no shame in being led around by a slip of a fledge, so long as the thing she led you around with was your dick.

Right?

Right.

Sod off.

Still, Spike found himself carrying her purse, stealing her jewels to apologize for whatever it was he didn't know he'd done, and, horror of horrors, letting her introduce more color into his wardrobe.

"You have such sinfully blue eyes, Spike, it'd be a shame not to flaunt it. Wear this shirt to bring the color out, and then I'll kill every bitch who notices."

She was such a sweet talker, his Cordy.

**-l-**

After a few close calls with Peaches, they wound up back in Sunnyhell. Spike wanted to take another run at the Slayer, and Cordy was fine with that so long as she got to eat Willow. She could go on for hours, gleefully planning what to do with the girl. Spike could relate.

He felt the same way about a certain chaos demon.

They holed up in a crypt that was connected to the tunnel system beneath Sunnyhell. Cordy bitched, and Spike admitted it was below the standards of Queen C, but he wanted to keep a low profile for now. He had a lead on the Gem of Amara, and he wanted time to look for it before the Slayer twigged he was in town.

"I don't see why you want it anyway," Cordy called over to the tomb where Spike had his maps of the tunnel systems spread out. She was organizing her wardrobe. Spike had had a couple minions go out and get her some of those free standing clothes rack things, so that she could hang up all her kit before it wrinkled. She got in such a strop if anything happened to her trunk of designer shite. Worse than Dru and her dolls that way.

"Why wouldn't I want it?" Spike returned, tracing a tunnel path with his fingertips. "Makes you immune to everything, dunnit? Be truly immortal."

"Well, yeah, duh. I know why  _I_  would want it. But you're always going on about how the reason you hunt Slayers is because it's a fight that it's possible to lose and proves you've got mad vampire skills or whatever."

Spike shrugged, a silent acknowledgment that she was right. "Still could come in handy, if say, a sire had to leave his childe, who is complete pants at fighting by the way, unprotected."

Cordy looked up at him with wide, startled eyes, and then she smiled that beautiful smile, and she was so bright and shining and yet so full of delicious darkness that Spike was moved to kneel at her feet, pulling her hands forward so he could kiss her palms. Queen C took the supplication as her due, so damn regal that he wouldn't be surprised to find there really was royalty somewhere in the generations of her human family.

"So we'll find the gem and then we'll keep it for days when the world's about to end, okay Spike? It'd just be stupid to let people know we have it. All the vamps would want to take it from us, the Scoobies would want to make sure no vamps could use it, and everyone would know that all they had to do to make us vulnerable again was take the gem away," she babbled.

"Smart as you are beautiful, kitten." Spike pulled Cordy into his arms.

She wrapped her legs around his waist, letting out a purr. "You don't need the gem to beat Slutty anyway. Not when you have me."

"Don't talk about the Slayer. Puts me right off," Spike growled, shifting into game face as he carefully undid the back of Cordy's dress.

'Thou shalt not rip Queen C's clothes for any reason other than the prevention of imminent dusting' was a lesson Spike had taken to heart. He'd had to steal a red convertible and an actual bleedin' tiara before his fiery childe got over him ruining some black dress by Vera Wang.

Cordy laughed. "Alright. I'll tell you my idea later, so I don't put you off."


	4. All the Good Ones

While Spike and the minions screwed around in the tunnels under the cemetery looking for the Gem of Amara, Cordy got her own plan going.

She decked herself out, stopped in on Spike to ask him if there was anything about her outfit or makeup she needed to fix (having no reflection was a bitch), and went to the Bronze and mingled.

The Dingoes were playing, so it wasn’t long before she ran into Xander and Willow. It looked like Willow’s fashion sense had gotten a little better since graduation, and Xander was beefier, but for the most part they were the same. Xander was still tall, dark, and wearing clothes that fit his frame all wrong, and Willow was still all redheaded and… moppet-y.

“Cordy! Wow! You look… wow!” Xander babbled at her, looking her up and down quickly before flushing.

“Careful Xander, I might think you like me,” Cordy purred in return, letting a little of her sex magic come to the surface like Spike had been teaching her. Well, Spike called it thrall, or _emprise de l'amour,_ but whatever, it was Cordy’s power and she’d call it what she wanted.

“We haven’t seen you around, Cordy. What have you been doing all summer?” Willow broke into the conversation.

Cordy turned and smiled at her, putting the whammy on Willow too. Almost immediately Willow’s eyes got big and she flushed a bright pink.

“Oh, I went to L.A. to pursue a career in acting. Wound up working for an escort service instead. Saved up a bunch of cash, and now I’m back in Sunnyhell crashing with my parents for a while. L.A. didn’t work out, so I think I’ll try New York next. More opportunities in theatre there. Oh and there was this whole thing where Angel tried to kill me, so I didn’t really want to stay in the same city as him.”

“Angel tried?!” Willow sputtered at the same time that Xander shrieked “Escort service?!”

Cordy rolled her eyes. “No Xander, I wasn’t a hooker. Gutter, much? Basically old guys paid me to go to parties with them and red carpet openings and stuff. And that was all I did.” _Except eat them when the party was over…_

“Cordy, why did Angel try to kill you? He didn’t lose his soul again did he, because I put it back in and I’m sure I didn’t mess up the spell, I mean it’s held this long and I don’t think he’d find perfect happiness again cause he’d always be worried about it and that should be enough to keep it from happening, right? So if he did lose his soul it’s probably because I did something wrong and – ”

Cordy held up a hand to halt the Willow babble.

“He still has his soul. There was this warlock and I got turned into a demon, and Angel thought I really was a demon, and the two times I saw him after that he tried to kill me before I could explain.”

“Oh.” Willow took an enormous breath.

Satisfied they’d bought her story and wouldn’t immediately try to stake her if Angel called and her name came up, Cordy switched her attention back to Xander. “Anyway, while I’m in town, I thought it might be nice to catch up with whoever’s still here. So I’ll see you guys around?”

Xander nodded and told her there was a Scooby meeting at Giles’ on Friday.

Cordy left the Bronze with a sway in her step, pleased with the encounter. She’d have invites to all their houses within a week.

**-l-**

“I can’t believe she didn’t notice I’m a vampire,” Cordy told Spike after attending her first Scooby meeting. “I mean, Buffy’s always been totally self-involved, I mean even more than me during sophomore year, but there was a vampire sitting in her Watcher’s apartment all night, and she didn’t even notice. Meanwhile, I feel like someone’s been rubbing my skin with sandpaper.”

Having hung her clothes up, Cordy flopped onto the massive bed in the lower level of the crypt she shared with Spike, stretching and writhing to luxuriate in the feel of silk sheets against her naked flesh.

Slowly, like the predator he was, Spike crawled up her body, touching every inch of her skin that he could. He was still wearing his new designer jeans, the ones Cordy had stolen for him. “Slayer’s always been careless. Took her ages to twig that Peaches was a vamp, and she hardly ever notices when I’m watching her and her little friends. If all I wanted was to kill her, it’d be right easy to take her out from a distance with a well-placed knife.”

“But that’s not the point.” Cordy picked up Spike’s pack of cigarettes from the bedside table, sliding her hand into his back pocket to pull out his lighter. “You want your big showdown, not just a notch on the bedpost.” She stuck a cigarette between his lips and lit it for him, then let the flame dance over the skin of his cheek – close enough for him to feel the heat, but not enough to burn.

“That’s right, pet.” Spike took the lighter from her, and then rolled them so that Cordy was on top. “If you’re going to fight a Slayer, you should do it on her terms. Otherwise you might as well just hunt a normal human.”

Knowing that this was going to turn into a retelling of how Spike killed his first two Slayers, Cordy settled in and watched him smoke. She’d heard the stories before, but they were fun stories and it made Spike hot to tell them to her.

And besides, if Queen C knew anything, it was how to manage her man. Spike was pretty much a kicked puppy. Cordy’d gathered from what he had and hadn’t said that he’d spent his whole unlife doing whatever he could to get even a scrap of affection from Angelus and Drusilla. So Cordy gave Spike what they never had: Her complete and undivided attention.

Whenever he felt like telling her something or spinning one of his wild stories, Cordy listened and oohed and aahed in all the right places, and when he was done she asked him questions. Then he got this look in his eyes like she was the most precious thing in the world and he’d shower her with jewelry and clothes and sex, and would do pretty much whatever she asked him to.

He was so easy to keep happy. It was just a shame she’d had to die to find such an attentive boyfriend. But then all the good ones were either gay or vampires, so maybe it was a good thing she’d joined Team Undead. 


	5. A Gem of An Accessory

“Willow’s wolfy boyfriend is onto me,” Cordy flounced into the crypt, falling into her favorite chair with a huff. “I think he can smell me or something. I have to keep the sex juice turned up just to keep him from figuring it out. But that won’t work forever. Pretty soon he’ll realize that it’s not that his inner wolf wants me. He’ll know I’m doing it.”

Spike looked up from his maps. He was so close to finding the Gem of Amara that Cordy had barely seen him for the last week. He spent every spare moment in the tunnels. She was starting to feel the tiniest bit neglected, even knowing that he wanted the gem to help him protect her.

“So we’ll kill the pup,” Spike shrugged, going back to his precious tunnel maps.

Cordy rolled her eyes. “And then Buffy and Willow will go on the warpath.”

Spike smirked. “Let them come.”

Cordy raised a brow, remembering well the many lectures Spike had given about laying low until they were ready to make their move.

“Fine,” Spike muttered, cowed by her look. “But you can’t expect me to let an opening like that pass by. Got a reputation to maintain. You say ‘Slayer on the warpath,’ the Slayer of Slayers says ‘Let her come.’ It’s a bloody rule.”

“You’ve been watching too many soaps.” Cordy snickered, sending Spike a sly glance. “You probably read comics too, when I’m not looking. I swear, you and Xander have so much in common…”

“Oi! Don’t you start! M’nothin’ like the donut boy.” He stopped and growled, his eyes flashing yellow. “And you’ve got me knowing their names! Bloody hell, woman.”

Cordy laughed, then crossed her legs, noting smugly that Spike’s eyes were immediately drawn to them, his intense blue gaze roaming over her skin. “Back to Oz. We need to do something about him. But nothing that looks like foul play. He doesn’t need to die. He needs to leave.”

Spike suggested forging a farewell note and dropping the body in a different city. Cordy didn’t think that would work. If the Scoobies were at all suspicious, they’d use magic or a talisman or call a good fairy or something to try to find Oz. No. She needed to find a way to make him leave voluntarily. Or at least get him to stop spending so much time with the Scoobies, so that he wouldn’t be around to sniff out her undead status.

“I’ve got it,” Cordy announced after about an hour of contemplation.

Spike kissed her when she told him her plan. “Gorgeous when you’re evil, pet.”

“Oh and Spike?” Cordy purred when her lover got up to leave. He paused. “While you’re out, why don’t you pick up some donuts?”

He growled and bared his teeth, flipping her off with his weird British peace sign thing and muttered all the way out about not being a ‘soddin’ donut boy.’

**-l-**

Finding the female werewolf was just a stroke of good luck.

The original plan had been to stage a vampire kidnapping, with Oz and Cordy as the kidnapees, and then replay an old scene. Only this time Cordy and Oz would be the ones in a lip lock, courtesy of a little sex juice persuasion, and Willow and Xander would be the ones walking in.

But that would have made all the Scoobies pissed at Cordy and limited her ability to spy on them, so finding Veruca was _serendipitous_.

(Cordy’d been making an effort to expand her vocabulary. Spike had a box full of really thick books of poems and philosophy and stuff that he thought she didn’t know about, and Cordy refused to be the dumb one in the relationship. Enough people assumed her good looks meant she was stupid, she wouldn’t prove them right.)

In the end, it was really easy to set Oz up. Cordy kept her sexual mojo ramped up around him, put the whammy on Veruca to get her going too, then suggested that they would like hanging out together because of music and stuff. After that all she had to do was sit back and watch, and helpfully go get Willow once it was time to catch the puppies in the act.

She was just a concerned friend of course. They barely knew Veruca, what if she attacked Oz?

And man _was_ she attacking him when Cordy and Willow got there.

The hardest part about the whole thing was keeping the smirk off her face as Willow was dealt back some of the pain she had caused Cordy, and Oz ran off into the night.

Mission very much accomplished.

Damn, she was good at being bad.

**-l-**

When they finally found the Gem of Amara, Cordy insisted they drive a few towns over to test it so that no one who would know it was weird for Spike to be walking around in daylight would see. Cordy let Spike have the gem first, because he’d been dead longer and probably couldn’t remember what the sun looked like.

Spike wanted the gem first, because he’d been dead longer and was less likely to immediately burst into flames.

Once they were sure the legends were true (and after they celebrated in gloriously bloody demonic fashion), they returned to their crypt in Sunnydale and plotted the most dramatic way to let the Scoobies know they were all about to die. Since they both loved to be the center of attention, this led to some good natured bickering about who got to do the big reveal, and then some truly steamy sex as they continued to battle for dominance.

When they fell asleep, both were sure that they had won.

When Cordy awoke, Spike was gone.

She wasn’t alarmed at first. It wasn’t like she’d fall apart without him to take care of her, and she liked her space sometimes. Spike was sexy and powerful and weirdly tender and loyal, but he could get on her very last nerve. And occasionally he’d get it into his head that he had to prove he was independent and manly or whatever, so he’d disappear for a few days before crawling back, obviously hoping she had missed him.

Really, having a boyfriend was a lot like having a cat.

Three days passed before Cordy got concerned.

For about five excruciating minutes, she thought he’d left her. She considered summoning a vengeance demon. Then she decided that he didn’t _get_ to leave her, she’d hunt him down and dump _him_ and then cut his head off for good measure.

It was the sound of her own growling that snapped her out of her funk. She stopped to take stock. All of Spike’s stuff was still in the crypt, and when she looked under the loose stone where they’d stashed the Gem of Amara, she found it shining up at her.

Spike might have left his stuff if he was in a hurry, but if he went voluntarily he wouldn’t have left the Gem of Amara. And he wasn’t dust. He was her sire. She’d know. She was sure that she would know. She’d felt it when her first sire was dusted, and her bond with Spike was so much deeper. Stronger.

A sort of cold shocky calm going through her that she hadn’t felt since she was human and fighting for her life, Cordy took out the Gem of Amara and slid it onto her left thumb, and then went about putting together an outfit, complete with accessories, that both matched the gem and projected an imperious air. It would be bad for the gem to stand out as not belonging. She didn’t want to draw attention to it.

It would very likely be the only thing standing between her and final death by the end of the night.

**-l-**

After formulating a plan, Cordy summoned the minions to the upper level of the crypt. She stood next to one of the sarcophagi, a small crossbow sitting on the stone plinth within easy reach. She didn’t know if the gem would be enough to give her an advantage in a hand to hand fight, so it would be best that if she had to do any killing, she did it at a distance.

“Master Spike is missing,” Cordy told the assembled group, using every trick she had learned in high school to keep them from seeing her emotions. “I believe he has been taken. You will all go out and ask around, see if anyone has heard or seen anything. You will be quick and quiet. Any of this gets back to the Slayer, and you’re dust.”

One of the bigger guys stepped forward. Cordy recognized him. Spike had made him a sort of head minion.

“If Master Spike is gone, why should we listen to you anymore?”

There was a low muttering of agreement and a few growls, and Cordy found herself remembering some loud comments she had made about the minions dressing bad and smelling worse.

She narrowed her eyes.

“I’m Master Spike’s childe.”

“And you think that makes you our Mistress?” the big ugly continued to push.

Cordy snatched up the crossbow and shot him in the shoulder. “No. I think it makes me your Queen. And you’d better hurry up and bow down, or my next shot will be through the heart.”

She wasn’t about to let on that her first shot had gone wide and she’d been aiming to dust him in the first place.

Fortunately, the minions thought she was way more badass than she really was. They all bowed and left to do her bidding. With that angle covered, Cordy took in an unneeded breath, and then went to try to figure out a way to get the Scoobies to help.

**-l-**

In the end, she decided it was best to approach them during the day. They didn’t know about the gem, and just seeing her in daylight would reinforce to them that she was human and not an enemy. If she went at night and tried to get them to help Spike, they might assume she’d been turned.

Which she had, just not recently, well unless four months was recent…

Cordy realized she was stalling and told herself very firmly that Queen C doesn’t stall. Stiffening her spine, she rapped on Giles’ apartment door and ordered him to call the others.

**-l-**

“Are you sure it was Spike?” Buffy asked for the gajillionth time.

Buffy was pacing (girl has issues), Willow was moping (girl misses her wolf), Xander was hovering (boy wants Queen C), Anya was glaring (girl resents Queen C), and Giles was plying Cordy with tea (actual caring human being).

Cordy took her tea and frowned at Buffy. “Hello, I think I know the Bleached Wonder when I see him. I mean, he’s kind of hard to forget.”

She shot Xander a look, just to see him get sheepish.

“And you say he was attacked by humans dressed like soldiers?”

Cordy nodded, repeating what her minions had told her. “I heard some girl scream, so I went in the cemetery with my holy water pistol, and there were all these soldier guys. They tazed Spike with like a cattle prod thing, and then this girl, I think she was a witch cause she was chanting and stuff, they tazed her too and carried them both off.”

“Better question: Why do we care?” Xander interrupted.

Willow immediately looked like someone had stuck a knife in her back, and Cordy opened her arms to the mortal and cooed at her, letting a little sex magic up to play as she stroked Willow’s hair. “Nice, Xander. Really nice. Of course, why should we care if people are kidnapping witches and vampires and dragging them off like that one time this exact thing happened before and Willow and Buffy were almost burned at the stake?”

Xander flinched and Cordy knew she’d scored a hit. They were seeing this as a problem now, something that they had to do something about.

Of course, the kidnapped witch was completely made up, but Cordy knew her audience. They’d never lift a finger to save a vampire unless that vampire was Angel.

“Someone could be looking for sacrifices to call up a higher demon, or to open the Hellmouth,” Anya chipped in. “Vampire blood and witch blood both have many arcane uses.”

“Oh good lord, she’s right.”

Giles started pulling out books, and Cordy knew she’d got what she wanted. Vamps and Scoobies were looking for Spike now. Cordy would get him back.

And when she did get him back, she was going to give him such a slap for making her go through all of this in the first place.

**-l-**

A week after Cordy started the search for Spike, she knew that groups of human soldiers were patrolling the Hellmouth with ‘weapons that bite like lightning’ and taking demons captive. Buffy heard at Willy’s that Spike was on the Hellmouth and shacking up with a ‘hot brunette.’ Cordy wasn’t sure if she was relieved or pissed when the Scoobies assumed the brunette must be Drusilla.

Two weeks after the start of the search, she was forced to officially declare herself Master of the Hellmouth, but she refused to answer to anything but ‘Queen Cordelia’ or ‘Your Majesty.’

By week three she knew a lot more about how many demons were missing and just when and where they had been taken, thanks to her new status as demonic governor. She started using a map to keep track, hoping she’d recognize a pattern.

By week four, she’d faced her first challenger for her territory and won, but only because the Gem of Amara kept her from turning to dust when she was staked. She mocked her opponent for missing her heart just to make sure no one got suspicious, then shoved her fingernails through his eyes.

By week five, she was running out of outfits that went with the Gem of Amara and was considering turning it into a bellybutton ring or wearing it on a toe just to keep it from being constantly on display. She should probably experiment to see if she had to be wearing it on a finger for it to work, or if it just had to be fastened to her somehow.

On the first night of week six, Spike turned up at Giles’ front door.

Willow was opening it to go back to her dorm when she let out a strangled shriek.

Cordy looked up as Giles and Xander pelted into the room. Anya carefully maneuvered so she’d still be able to see, but wasn’t in a direct path of attack. Cordy had always liked Anya.

Thankfully, Buffy was out patrolling.

Spike was standing just outside the barrier that keeps vampires from entering homes. He locked eyes with Cordy, then gave a moan that she could tell wasn’t entirely faked, and keeled over.

“Something’s wrong with him,” she gasped, shoving the heavy book she’d been reading off her lap and moving toward the doorway.

Xander’s arm barred her way. “He’s just trying to lure you out so he can hurt you!”

Cordy shoved him out of the way, forgetting to check her vampiric strength. Xander fell on his ass.

If they asked, she’d chalk it up to stress. Or say she was taking tae bo. One of the two.

“Well, duh Xander, it could be a trick. But look at him. He’s been tortured.” And indeed, Spike smelled of blood and dirt and chemicals, and his clothes were torn and soiled. The roots of his hair were showing, and it was clear that he hadn’t been able to wash or gel it back in a while. “He could know something about whoever took him, and where the witch and other missing demons are being kept.”

“Other missing demons?” Giles questioned as Cordy retrieved a stake, for appearance’s sake, and approached the door again.

“Oh, uh, Buffy mentioned it. Heard it from something she slayed. Slew?” Cordy babbled, trying to draw attention away from her little slips. She couldn’t blow her cover now, not when she’d just got Spike back. “Cover me with the crossbow, Giles.”

Before anyone else could try to stop her, Cordy crossed the invisible barrier and knelt at Spike’s side with her back to the Scoobies, leaning over him with the stake poised to strike.

“Why’d you come here?” she asked Spike, so softly that only someone with preternatural hearing would be able to make out her words.

“Smelled you. Wanted you. Wasn’t sure if the crypt was safe,” Spike answered just as softly.

“Idiot,” she cursed him, hating the waver in her voice. Spike hadn’t fed in days, maybe not since the day he’d been taken. Every inch of his body cried out for blood, and every inch of Cordy ached to give him hers, to nurse her sire back to health. She didn’t understand why he hadn’t fed before coming to find her. He was big on romantic gestures, but this was ridiculous.

Giles asked a question. Cordy ignored him.

“Can you fight?” she whispered to Spike.

A convulsion shook his body and… was that fear in his eyes?

The word “No” was practically wrenched from him, so soft she almost missed it, even with vampiric hearing. Cordy pressed her lips into a thin line. She’d seen Spike fight when he was more badly hurt than this, but she trusted him. If he said he couldn’t fight, there was a reason.

“Pretend to be unconscious. We’ll leave when all the humans have gone to bed.”

Without giving Spike time to reply, Cordy turned to the humans standing grouped in the doorway. “He’s hurt bad. He passed out. Help me drag him inside, and Giles get the chains you used to use on Oz? Let’s tie him up somewhere, and when he wakes up we can play twenty questions.”

They all stared as Cordy pretended to struggle with lifting Spike’s torso, never mind that she could easily throw him over her shoulder and carry him. “Well are you going to stand there, or are you going to help me?” she demanded, as if her requests were all perfectly normal. That was the trick to being commanding: acting like the other person was an idiot for not seeing the obvious path.

Spike let his face flop into her cleavage. She could feel him smile against the swell of her breast.

“You know,” Xander told her as he came forward and grabbed Spike’s feet. “You’re really scary.”

Cordy huffed at him, though she was inwardly pleased by the compliment. “You can’t stand the heat, get out of my kitchen.”


	6. Chain Letter

They chained Spike in the bathtub and Cordy ‘kept watch’ over him until the humans decided he was unlikely to wake up before daybreak. Giles cast a spell to strengthen the chains wrapped around Spike, and then told all of them to get some rest.

Rather than argue, Cordy left when the Scoobies did, then waited until Giles was asleep before sneaking back into the house.

Spike’s golden eyes snapped to her the instant she entered the bathroom. With a crunch of bones, Cordy also shifted to her true face, silently climbing into the bathtub and kneeling before her sire, offering him her throat. He struck with a flare of pain, too hungry to be gentle, and greedily sucked down Cordy’s blood. The pull of it lulled her, making her both aroused and dozy. She leaned against her sire’s chest, wishing his arms were free so that he could hold her.

 _Home home home, sire sire sire_ , chanted the little voice in her head that she was pretty sure was her demon.

Her vision was starting to go grey around the edges when Spike pulled back, licking at the fang marks in her neck.

The Gem of Amara healed the punctures within minutes. Spike lifted a brow in question.

Cordy lifted her left hand to show him the ring on her thumb. “It kept me alive while you were gone. The minions revolted. I had to take over the Hellmouth from you.”

He smirked and looked proud and amused at the same time, and Cordy thought that she’d have blushed if she was still human.

“Why didn’t you just leave?” he asked, leaning forward so his lips were against her ear.

She punched him in the shoulder, barely remembering to keep her voice down in time. “What kind of question is that, you jerk?”

Spike shrugged and Cordy growled in frustration.

“Never mind your self-esteem issues, Spike. Tell me what happened and where you’ve been, and how you escaped.”

He scowled, and for a hot second Cordy thought they were going to have to risk having one of their little dominance battles in the Watcher’s bathroom before she could get any answers. But then Spike slumped, his chains clanking, all of the fight going out of him. He seemed almost… fragile, when he started talking.

He told her about soldiers, and experiments, and drugged blood. He told her about all the demons he’d seen in the other cells. He told her about his escape. And he told her that something had been done to keep him from being able to fight, to feed… and the excruciating pain it caused him.

Suddenly his reluctance to fight her for dominance made sense. He already knew he would lose.

Except, wait a minute...

“Hey, Spike… is the reason you didn’t feed before you came looking for me because the whatever it is hurts you if you bite humans?”

He gave her an impatient look that clearly said he was thinking some very mean things.

Cordy rolled her eyes.

“Think back a few minutes, Bleach Brain. What did you just do to me?” She crossed her arms. “I know you’re slow. Don’t worry, I’ll wait.”

Spike was opening his mouth, no doubt to rant at her with all his weird British slang, when the light bulb went on. He shut his mouth with an audible click.

“I bit you,” he mumbled. “Was so hungry, I didn’t even think about it.”

Cordy held out her arm. “Bite me again.”

Spike did, though he only took a few swallows. Cordy was thankful for that. She didn’t want to say, but she’d need to feed before she could give him much more. The Gem of Amara would keep her from dusting and heal the punctures, but it couldn’t replace the blood.

“Do you think whatever it is they put in me got buggered up somehow?” Spike asked hopefully.

“I don’t know.” Cordy shifted around so she could check his head, running her fingers through his hair. He’d said the pain was mostly in his head, so maybe there was something…

There was a dark spot about the size of a half dollar piece on the back of Spike’s skull that was his natural hair color, and shorter than the surrounding hair. Cordy pressed her fingers to it and felt a little depression in his scalp. The chains clanked as Spike instinctively tried to bring his fingers to the spot as well.

Cordy thought, drawing on all of her experiences, and all the tv shows she’d ever seen, and all of the comics and stuff she’d been forced to listen to Xander talk about recently, when she’d been undercover with the Scooby Gang.

“I think it’s kind of like those shock collars my mom always had for her yappy little dogs. If the dog barks, it gets shocked. So… biting me doesn’t count as barking, I guess?”

 _And sort of like the shock collars the X-Men had to wear when they were tricked into slavery in Geneva_ , she added silently, with a vow that she would never, ever admit to having absorbed that much X-Men knowledge to any sentient being.

Spike sighed. “I’ve been spending too much time with you, luv. I actually understood that.”

“Shut up,” she told him absentmindedly. “You missed me like hell when you were in that place. Don’t even try to deny it.”

Another sigh. “Yeah, luv. I did.”

Cordy snuggled up to Spike, idly stroking his face. She didn’t know how long they stayed like that, just that they both needed the comfort.

After some time, Spike broke the silence. “Every time the shock collar’s gone off, it’s been because I was trying to fight a human.”

Cordy nodded. “So you can still fight demons, probably.”

Good. That was something. Spike would still be able to rule the Hellmouth, once she got him away from the Scoobies. She pulled at the chains trapping Spike in the bathtub, cursing at Giles for thinking to put a spell on them to make them unbreakable, even for two vamps working together.

“I don’t know what he did with the key, but I doubt it’s just sitting around somewhere.”

“Don’t worry, kitten, we’ll think of something,” Spike assured her. “We’ve both got out of tighter spots than this.”

Cordy nodded, then slipped the Gem of Amara off her thumb, moving to slide it onto Spike’s ring finger.

“No,” he stopped her. “You’ve got to go feed and deal with running the Hellmouth. And you’d best come back in daylight to keep the Scoobies from getting suspicious of you.”

Cordy knew that stubborn look. Suddenly she regretted pointing out that Spike could probably still hurt demons. Now that he knew he could fight her he’d be much harder to manage.

“But the Slayer – ”

“ _Childe_ ,” Spike growled, using a hint of the powers of a sire to make her spine shake and her knees turn to jelly with the pressure to obey.

“Fine,” she snarled at him. “But I’m coming back during the day to make sure no one stakes you. And if we haven’t freed you yet, I’ll come again at night to feed you.”

Spike nodded once, his jaw set.

**-l-**

Spike feigned sleep for a good portion of the day, but when the Watcher shoved a mug of pig’s blood under his nose, he couldn’t keep his eyes from snapping open. The git was taunting him with the horrible stuff, and while the Watcher didn’t know Spike couldn’t hurt him, Spike himself was all too aware. He couldn’t bear keeping his eyes closed with an enemy – an enemy he couldn’t currently defeat – so close.

The old git was wearing a tweed suit, and held a crossbow tightly in one hand. Spike kept his eyes trained on the weapon, his nostrils flaring at the scent of the pig’s blood.

It was a good thing his Cordelia had given him her blood the night before. Otherwise he’d be whinging and spilling his guts just for a swallow of the swill the Watcher was shaking in front of his face.

He turned his blue eyes on the Watcher. “Planning to torture me with hunger, then?”

“Tell me what I want to know, and I’ll give you the blood.” The Watcher’s voice was cold, calculating… Reminded Spike of Angelus in a way.

He found himself hoping that Rupert Giles was never vamped.

Spike pretended to consider for a moment, then turned his nose up. “Nah, thanks but no thanks, Rupes. Not quite bad enough off to go bargaining for that shite, ‘specially as it’s probably spiked with holy water.”

The Watcher set the mug down and leveled the crossbow at Spike’s chest. “You don’t seem to fully appreciate your predicament, _vampire_. You will make yourself useful and tell me what I want to know, or I’ll kill you.”

Spike paused, assessing how serious the threat was. Pretty serious, going by the glint in the bloke’s eyes. This was one who liked the kill, no matter how much he told himself otherwise. No wonder he scared demons – few creature could be more cruel, more monstrous than a human that believed firmly in the righteousness of what they were doing. Spike had seen that first hand.

“Saved your life, that time Angelus was torturing you. Got him to use Dru instead. Joined up with the Slayer to stop him. That’s gotta count for something.”

Was a gamble, saying that. Could remind the Watcher of honor and debts owed. Or could just royally brass him off.

But Spike never had to find out, because the Slayer chose that moment to barrel through the bathroom door.

“Oh my god, it’s true. I thought Willow had lost her mind or was playing some really bad joke, but nope. This is happening. You really have Spike tied up in your bathtub.”

The Watcher gave a long suffering sigh as the Slayer continued to blather on, and eventually pulled the girl from the bathroom so he could explain things to her. Spike snorted. Idiot probably thought that Spike couldn’t hear them if they talked about him in the lounge of the Watcher’s flat. He was a bleeding vampire! Of course he could hear them. He could hear them breathe and discern their heartbeats too, if he concentrated.

He leaned back and closed his eyes, listening as the two humans discussed what to do with him like he was a rabid dog.

The Slayer was all for staking him while he was still chained. No muss no fuss. No giving him a fighting chance. Spike decided to take that as a compliment, a tacit acknowledgment that she knew she couldn’t kill him unless he was trussed up in chains and unable to defend himself.

The Watcher wanted information out of him first, wanted to know where he’d been and what his captors were planning, and something about finding out if a human witch was still alive.

Spike started to consider the real possibility that he would be dust before Cordy got back. It was daylight out – he couldn’t run even if he could get himself out of the chains, the shock collar in his head kept him from fighting the humans who wanted to stake him… He was going to end up just like Cordy’s first sire.

He snarled, self-loathing swirling up to choke him. He’d promised himself he’d be a better sire than any who had been sire to him. That he would do right by his childe. That he would keep her safe and happy for centuries, until she was good and ready to step out on her own, and that he wouldn’t let her stray far from his side, even then.

But he was weak. Not demon enough. Just like Angelus had always said. Just like Dru said. He’d failed his Queen C. He was going to leave her with nothing but the Gem of Amara and a pile of dust to mark his passing.

That was when he knew he loved her. Oh, he’d known that he wanted her, that he craved her presence, but he’d put it down to the bond between childe and sire. The loyalty and affection that held them together was family and blood, nothing more.

But now, his final death being casually plotted in the other room, Spike knew that he’d give anything for one more night with his Cordelia. Not because she was his childe, not because she was sex on two legs, but because she was Queen C – imperious and commanding and still so new, his night blooming jasmine who had just begun to open her petals.

It was a quiet love that had snuck up on him, filling his undead heart when he wasn’t looking, growing like a choking vine between eye rolls and demands to be taken shopping.

Spike had always been a sucker for bossy brunettes.

The Slayer came back into the bathroom, and Spike looked her in the eye, resolving to meet his final death head on.

“Oi, Slayer. Before you stake me, you mind granting a last request?”

The Slayer stared at him, pulling a stake out of her back pocket and twirling it in her fingers. “Don’t usually do that.”

“But I’m not just any slay, am I?” Spike smirked. “Come on. Won’t take a minute, and then you can have a fine time playing with my ashes.”

She looked disgusted.

“Hey now, I’d do it if our positions were reversed,” Spike wheedled. Buffy snorted. “Well I would, so long as it wasn’t something daft like untying you or letting you phone a friend.”

The Slayer rolled her eyes at him, and Spike felt a pang, wishing it was Cordy he was spending his final moments with.

“Fine, what do you want?”

“Want to write a letter to my childe. And want your word you’ll leave it where it can be found.”

The Slayer was opening her mouth when the Watcher interrupted. “You sired a childe?”

He looked torn between horror and fascination. That’s a Watcher for you.

“Yeah mate,” Spike nodded, hope springing up in his chest. If he could keep them talking long enough, Cordy might arrive before he was so much dust on the wind. “Had to, didn’t I? Vamps aren’t meant to be alone, and Dru wasn’t taking me back anytime soon. She’s still brassed off I helped you lot with Angelus.”

The Watcher was getting pen and paper, and polishing his glasses, mumbling to himself about pack mentalities and how there’d always been theories but no confirmation. Spike suppressed a sigh. He’d been the subject of human study a bit too long already.

But at least the Watcher didn’t seem to be planning on cutting him up and implanting him with things any time soon, so that was something.

“Giles – ” the Slayer protested.

“Oh Buffy, really. You’re acting like a child deprived of a toy. It’s not as if he’s going anywhere.”

The Slayer turned a couple of interesting colors, and then pulled herself up onto the bathroom counter to pout. She clearly wasn’t going to be persuaded to leave the Watcher alone with Spike, but at least his staking no longer seemed quite so close at hand.

“Now then.” The Watcher put the lid of the toilet seat down and took a seat, pen and paper in his hands. “I won’t free your hands, so if you want to leave a letter to this childe of yours, you’ll have to dictate.”

Spike narrowed his eyes and sneered. Damn Watcher was too clever by half. Spike had hoped that having his hands free would give him some leeway to at least get himself out of the bathroom and hide somewhere until nightfall. And the Watcher had twigged it, damn him. And by making Spike dictate, he clearly hoped to get insight into vampirism for his Watcher books, and maybe find out who Spike’s childe was so that Buffy could go out and get stake happy.

He growled. They _weren’t_ getting Cordy. She had the Gem of Amara. She’d be fine.

She’d be _fine_.

“He’s not talking, Giles. Can I stake him now?” the Slayer whined.

“Fine!” Spike snapped, slipping into game face as his rage overwhelmed him. He quickly switched back when both humans went for weapons. “Oi, I’m hungry and tied up in a bathtub while the Slayer talks about shoving a bit of wood through my heart. Can’t blame a bloke for getting tetchy.”

“I told you I would give you blood in exchange for information.”

“Giles!”

A sigh. “Not my own blood, Buffy. Pig’s blood.”

Spike turned his head, making his voice petulant. “Pig’s blood’s disgustin’. ‘Sides. Don’t trust you not to poison me.”

Another sigh. “The letter, Spike?”

This time Spike sighed. “To my Queen… you getting this, Watcher?”

Giles blinked and began scribbling on one of his bits of paper.

“To my Queen,” Spike started again. “Don’t mind the handwriting. Watcher’s making me dictate.” He paused for a minute, thinking. The Slayer twirled her stake. Spike ignored her.

“Don’t really know what to say, luv. Just that I’m going to be dust before the day is out. Wish I could have seen you again, told you how beautiful you are. Told you how much I love you. Reckon you know where I stashed all the money and such. Just know that I didn’t mean to leave you. If love was enough, we’d have had eternity. Yours, Spike.”

The Slayer snorted as he finished, and Spike glared at her. “It’s impolite to mock a bloke’s dying thoughts.”

“Like you even mean half of that. You don’t have a soul. You can’t feel. You’re just trying to mess with our heads so we won’t dust you.”

Spike roared and jerked forward against his chains, the chip in his head giving little warning shocks that made him wince even as he slipped into his true face. “You don’t get to tell me what I feel,” he hissed around his fangs. “You get to kill me, but you don’t bloody well get to tell me my love isn’t real.”

The Slayer instinctively backed off, pushing herself against the mirror at her back. Spike allowed himself to feel smug, that he could still menace her even in his current state.

“You can’t love,” the Slayer rallied, looking to her Watcher. “Tell him, Giles.”

Spike laughed without humor. “Of course. We’re just soulless things without feelings. Makes it easier, dunnit?” He smiled maliciously, rattling his chains. “Because if I had feelings, that would mean that I was a person and it would be cruel to starve me and chain me and mock my dying wishes. It would mean that you go out and murder every night, same as any vampire who kills to survive.”

“Shut up!”

The Slayer punched him, making Spike cut his lip on his own fangs.

Spike blinked a few times and ran his tongue over his teeth. Then he turned to meet the Watcher’s eyes. “You just seal up that letter, mate. Put it in an envelope and write ‘Spike’s Childe’ on the front. Take it to Willy. He’ll see that it gets to her. And… when it’s done, put some of my dust in there, yeah? So she’ll know it’s not a trick and not go getting any harebrained schemes about rescuing me into her head.”

The Watcher’s mouth opened into a little ‘o’, but then he nodded and almost tentatively asked, “Wouldn’t it be better if you told me her name?”

“Do I look bloody stupid to you?” Spike demanded, ignoring the Slayer’s muttered ‘yes.’ “I’m not telling you her name just so you can send the Slayer after her.”

Giles nodded, and cut his eyes to Buffy. “Before you’re… on your way, why don’t you tell me a bit about yourself? For posterity.”

Spike waited a beat.

“Before you kill me in cold blood, you want my life story for your buggering Watcher’s Diaries?”

“Erm… yes, well…”

“Don’t get your knickers in a twist, Watcher.” Spike shrugged. “Might as well, I suppose. Means a few more hours of being alive, if nothin’ else.”

**-l-**

When Cordy made it to Giles’ apartment, Spike was tied to a chair in the living room, telling stories to Giles. Giles was avidly writing everything down, even the obvious bullshit. Buffy was prowling around the room, her Slayerness making Cordy’s skin crawl.

“Hey guys. What’s with story time?”

Spike’s eyes followed her around the room, though he never paused in his recitation of how he had first crossed the Atlantic in the belly of a cargo boat.

“Giles wants to write down his whole stupid life story before I stake him.”

If Cordy had a heart that beat, it would have skipped a few. “You’re going to dust him?” she asked, going for casual, her eyes locking with her sire’s.

“Yeah, as soon as Giles is done listening to his _obviously made up stories_.” Buffy raised her voice until she was almost screaming, drowning Spike out.

They both ignored her, though Spike’s arm twitched like he would have done his British flip off peace sign thing if his hands weren’t chained down.

“Really, you wouldn’t believe some of the stuff he’s spewed to try and get us to feel sorry for him. He even did this whole thing where he had Giles write a letter to his childe – oh apparently that brunette he was shacking up with wasn’t Dru – about how much he loved her and she was beautiful and he didn’t want to leave her and blah blah. I mean. A vampire that can love without a soul,” Buffy sounded vaguely desperate. “Have you ever heard anything so ridiculous?”

Cordy wanted to rip her throat out.

She smiled instead. “He said that?”

“Yeah.” Buffy dragged a hand through her hair. “I mean, how dumb does he think we are? If vampires could love without souls…”

“Then Angelus should have still been in love with you?” Cordy finished that thought with a sneer. “Ego, much? I mean. Get over yourself. Maybe he didn’t love you as much as you thought he did. Or here’s a thought: he was crazy. Maybe trying to kill everyone was his way of showing you he cared. But that’s not the point. The point is, just because Angelus couldn’t love you doesn’t mean that other vampires can’t love anyone.”

Cordy watched as all the blood drained from Buffy’s face. “You _bitch_.”

Buffy’s fingers curled into fists. In that instant Cordy was very glad that Buffy thought she was human. Otherwise she’d be getting the beating of her unlife.

“Truth hurts,” Cordy shrugged, executing a strategic retreat to the other side of Giles. “How goes the interrogation?”

Giles looked between her and Buffy, not saying anything.

“Oi, ducks. You’re a bit of alright,” Spike leered at Cordy, winking.

Buffy stormed from the room, Giles on her heels.

As soon as they were gone, Cordy sat on Spike’s lap and indulged in a passionate kiss. “You really left me a letter?”

He nuzzled her throat. “Thought I was going to fail you, luv. It was a bit touch and go there. Didn’t want to dust without saying a proper goodbye.”

She kissed him again, murmuring, “I love you too, you know,” against his lips. He groaned, and she slid her hands underneath his shirt, snarling when the chains holding him to the chair stopped her progress.

“Where’s the key?”

“Watcher has it on ‘em. Doubt he’s going to give it up.”

Cordy smiled. “I can make him. Sex magic to the rescue.”

Spike nodded, covering every part of her he could reach with little butterfly kisses. “Be careful, kitten. Make sure you’ve got him alone. I don’t fancy you being staked just trying to get me out of here.”

Cordy promised, then pressed her neck to Spike’s lips. “Take what you need. Quick, before they come back.”

**-l-**

It was surprisingly difficult to get Giles alone. The Scoobies came in and out of his apartment unannounced like the place had a revolving door. Twice, Cordy had to back off at the last minute before she was caught in a compromising position.

She thought that she could probably take them all, so long as Buffy wasn’t there, but Spike didn’t want her to risk it even with the Gem of Amara. He said he couldn’t stand to watch her dust, knowing he was right there but couldn’t help.

For the unlife of her, Cordy couldn’t get the big stupid _man_ … _vampire_ … _manpire_ to see that she felt just the same way about him.

Then she got distracted by a spell.

**-l-**

Buffy and Spike were getting married. And they were kissing and giggling and snarking at each other, and dammit that was _Cordy’s_ job, and _her_ Spike, and _her_ kisses, and _her_ snarkage!

Then Giles went blind, and Cordy figured it was probably due to the utter wrongness that was Buffy and Spike making out on his couch.

She was about two seconds from throwing herself at the Slayer and ripping her in half because dammit, Cordy _did not_ share, never mind that they were so obviously under a spell, when Xander and Anya burst into the apartment.

As soon as Cordy set eyes on Xander, she forgot all about Buffy and Spike.

Xander smelled so good. Like chocolate, and heaven, and new leather shoes. And he glowed, a beautiful pulsing that reminded her of the lights in L.A., something about him pulling her toward him like the world’s most powerful magnet. She couldn’t resist. She had to have him. She’d turn him and make him her consort and they’d rule the Hellmouth together and he would be so delicious….

“Um, Cordy…?”

She couldn’t remember doing it, but at some point she had slinked over and started running her hands over Xander’s chest. “Shhh…” She put a finger to his lips and let him have a blast of sex mojo.

Anya tried to pull her away, and Cordy snarled at her, assessing the other woman. Deciding she wasn’t a threat, she turned back to Xander, already pulling his clothes off.

“Hey, get a room!” Cordy faintly heard Buffy say, followed by a snort of laughter from Spike.

“No, don’t get a room!” Anya countered, trying to pry Cordy away from Xander again. She didn’t have much luck against Cordy’s vampire strength, and she stopped trying when she caught a dose of sex magic meant for Xander. In haze of lust, she pulled herself closer, rubbing against Cordy’s back and moaning.

And then the spell broke.

**-l-**

Willow stood in the center of the Giles’ living room, shamefacedly explaining what had happened with her Will Be Done spell. Buffy and Spike were still spitting and wiping at their mouths, and Giles was lecturing while Xander tried to placate Anya.

They all seemed to have forgotten that Spike was unbound and dangerous as far as they knew, Buffy having let her ‘Blondie Bear’ out of the uncomfortable chains while under the spell. Cordy sidled over to him, ready to help him make a run for it. Thankfully, it was dark out.

“Hey, wait a minute,” Xander’s voice interrupted Cordy’s careful examination of possible exits. “What’d you say about Cordy then, Wills? I mean I get what happened to everyone else, but why did Cordy go all…slinky seduce-y?”

Before Cordy could come up with an explanation, Anya chimed in.

“Well it’s obvious, Xander. Willow’s spell made you a demon magnet, and you attracted Cordelia. She’s a demon.”

“Don’t be silly, Ahn. Cordy’s not a demon.” Suddenly Xander paused, not so sure of himself. He turned to Cordy. “Are you?”

Cordy and Spike shared a look.

Then Cordy darted forward and grabbed Willow, putting her wickedly pointed nails to the girl’s throat. “What the hell,” Cordy said as she shifted into vamp face. “I was getting tired of pretending to like you people anyway.”

There were shocked gasps and cries of denial all around. Except for Anya, who just said, “See? I was right!”

Willow struggled, and Cordy hit her with a shot of sex juice. Her frightened squeaks became moans and her struggles turned more into dry humping as she whispered something about thinking she was ‘kinda gay.’

Cordy met Spike’s eyes. “Coming, sire?”

Another round of gasps.

“Cordelia is your childe?!”

“But, but… daylight!”

“My wicked Queen is special, aren’t you, kitten?” Spike drawled as he stalked over to her. She purred at him.

“Give us Willow, and I’ll let you go,” Buffy demanded, never mind that she was in no place to be telling Cordy what to do.

“Hmmm,” Cordy pretended to think as she and Spike backed towards the front door. “Deal.”

She watched them all slump in relief before sinking her fangs into Willow’s neck. A few quick pulls and she’d drained enough that the girl would need medical attention.

“Wills!” Xander snarled, doing a pretty good impression of when he was hyena boy.

“Ah, ah!” Spike taunted. “You can come after us, or you can take Red to the hospital. Your choice.”

Cordy tossed Willow at the Scoobies, and then she and Spike turned and fled.


End file.
